


Forget-Me-Not

by Milieu



Category: Me (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet, Body Horror, Drabble, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Spoilers, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milieu/pseuds/Milieu
Summary: A new life with old friends.
Relationships: Me/Handao/Tremadama





	Forget-Me-Not

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat combines endings 2 & 3 and takes place after them. Happy Halloween!

When Me split her skull open on the stereo, bashing bashing bashing bashing until her skin broke and her bone splintered and frothy red blood spilled out, petals and stems came too.

It wasn't the way she always heard it would be. She didn't see a light.

(She hadn't seen one for a long time.)

She didn't find herself floating over her body. She found herself taller, looking at hands with a strange number of fingers, and after some fuzzy amount of time, she realized that the hands were hers. Something strange protruded from her back, and when she flexed the unfamiliar new muscles, she found that they were small, fluffy wings. She blinked her one eye at the slumped body on the floor, and then she plucked the flower out of its skull, turned on her heel, and left.

What else was there for her to do?

The world outside had changed, and it didn't surprise her.

Her friends were still there. All the friends she had left in the world.

She had always been a monster. It was about time that she looked like one too.

Handao had always been loyal and wise. Tremadama had always been nurturing and bright. Me could be their stoicism and darkness. Balance was important.

The flower she'd pulled from her own brain matter never wilted. She carried it with her wherever they went; even if it meant nothing to anyone but the three of them, it would always remind her of what she was. What she had once been. It was the proof that she was lucky, and that she was safe now. Proof that her mind had been strong enough to reach out to something beyond the constricting world she had been born in. Proof that something out there loved her enough to reach back.

And you know what? When she remembered what being happy felt like, this was close enough.


End file.
